A Familiar Escapade (Rewrite)
by saintcrimes
Summary: Sherlock persuades John to come with him to an old decrepit castle somewhere in the forest of Mayfair. John has no idea what he's up to, and neither does Sherlock really. That is until they uncover something that should've never really been seen again; that plummets them into a nightmarish place full of all kinds of horrors. Will they escape with their lives? Probably not.
1. Chapter 1

John was standing in line at the grocery store when he received a string of urgent texts from Sherlock.

He had successfully ignored the first two, but when he could no longer withstand the incessant buzzing in his pocket he gave a sigh and fished it out of his pocket.

9:00 a.m. [John -SH]

9:00 a.m. [John -SH]

9:00 a.m. [Where are you -SH]

9:01 a.m. [I need you at Mayfair. Right now. -SH]

9:01 a.m. [Not in trouble. It's for a case. -SH]

9:02 a.m. [Are you coming? -SH]

9:03 a.m. [John? Hello I need you to answer me. -SH]

He sighed and texted him back.

9:04 a.m. [I'm getting the groceries, wait a second will you? -JW]

9:04 a.m. [Oh right. Forgot. Hurry up. Meet me at Pike st. and get ready for a long drive. -SH]

The line moved just a fraction. There were at least four other people in front of him and their carts were completely filled. This is why he was used to using the chip-and-pin machine, though he wasn't really in the mood for it this early in the morning.

Taking one last desperate look at the front of the line, he sighed and moved his cart off to the side. He knew the workers wouldn't be particularly happy about the full cart of food that would have to be put back, but it sounded like this was something infinitely more important.

John stepped outside into the cool October air and zipped up his jacket. It was getting pretty chilly for it to be so early in the month. He walked through the crisp yellow and brown leaves and out to the edge of the sidewalk. "Taxi!" He raised his hand as he shouted, but no one stopped. He didn't have Sherlock's skill of hailing a taxi whenever he wanted and he sighed after three of them zoomed past. Luck was not on his side today. John turned away from the street and started walking down the sidewalk as he attempted to warm his hands in his jacket pockets.

It was only a brisk six minute walk to Mayfair, and only an additional five to find the street that Sherlock requested he come to. As he got there -terribly out of shape and breathing harshly- he saw the familiar long coat and dark blue scarf of the great Sherlock Holmes. He was waiting impatiently by a bus sign with no less than twenty people crowded around him. There were more people in this part of the city than there had been in the last couple of blocks and John was slightly relieved. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked completely uncomfortable for reasons John couldn't quite understand.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed impatiently as he waved for him to come over. John rolled his eyes and jogged over the rest of the way.

"Had to run all the way here." he huffed in annoyance. Sherlock either didn't hear the tone in John's voice or he simply didn't care because his only reply was a halfhearted shrug.

"Ok, so what is it?" John asked seriously, crossing his arms and shooting a glance at the people crowded around. This time Sherlock shot him a glance that he took to mean, "Shut Up John As Much As I Enjoy Your Company On Most Occasions You're Becoming A Nuisance." Though he had just spent wasted hours shopping for groceries, and he wasn't going to let it go that easy.

"Sherlock. Tell me what we're doing here." he snapped in a barely hushed whisper.

"Not now." Sherlock hissed as he clenched his jaw. This only made John more enraged, though the only sign of this was an impatient tap of his foot on the concrete.

The crowd surrounding them had varying dynamics, being loud at some points and eerily quiet at others. He wondered why on Earth they were all waiting here. His best guess was that they were waiting on a bus, but why? He wished he could ask Sherlock what this case was even about. That, however, got him a glare and huff from his companion. He rolled his eyes and gave up for the moment.

After an agonizing 10 minutes on the godforsaken curb, their bus was nowhere to be seen. Oh, don't think this meant there was nothing on the road. There were cabs, and trucks, and cars, and all sorts of easily accessible vehicles zooming past them. But no-ooo, they had to wait here for some bus to take them god knows where. He sighed and crossed his arms which didn't gain any attention from the consulting detective who just seemed to be staring straight ahead..

Five minutes later, John was furious. "I thought you told me to hurry. I could have got the groceries and been home at this rate. What are we waiting for?"

"It should be here soon." he got a reply in the form of an annoyed voice from beside him. Hm, so Sherlock was annoyed at how long it was taking too? How long had he been waiting here?

"How long have you been standing here?"

"Hmph."

"Is this just a little journey on your own whims or are we seriously waiting here for a bus to take us to a murder scene?"

"*mumble* Hmph."

"Can't we just get a cab?"

"NO. We cannot get a cab." Sherlock snapped loudly than he meant to. It got him a couple strange stares from the crowd that surrounded them.

"Well WHY ever not?" John matched Sherlock's pitch for every note, which caused more and more of the crowd to turn to watch the spectacle.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and spoke dangerously low, "Because this bus is the only thing that will take us there." he seemed to be picking his words very carefully, "And it's not a murder scene." he shot a pointed glance.

The crowd was attentive even though they weren't exactly looking at them. John was half exhausted, half confused, and almost completely bent on strangling Sherlock when the bus pulled up.

Now, John had seen a lot of vehicles in his lifetime, and though a few were far from new...this one took the cake. It was some sort of a carriage bus that, to say the least, was terribly ugly. He could only dub it "The Antichrist on Wheels."

The whole crowd surged forward as soon as the "bus" opened its doors. Sherlock elbowed him in the ribs and began trying to make his way towards the bus. John took this as a sign to follow him and he tried to make his way, albeit politer, through the crowd.

By the time they got on, only a few seats were left. A few meaning chairs with no seats, chairs with the stuffing ripped and strewn across their seats, and one particular chair in which a dead dog made its presence. He held back a gag. Sherlock took his wrist and headed back towards the less mangled, yet somehow very unappealing, seats available in the back. John pulled against him a couple of times saying he could walk by himself, but Sherlock moved on relentlessly. They were the only two in the very back of the bus, and the only ones to have to try to sit on two beaten up, thrown together chairs. John cringed when he sat as the wires snapped at his back. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed far too comfortable on the gnarled up cove of a chair he was in.

The bus driver yelled something in the front and the bus rocketed forward. John did as well, until he caught himself on the chairs in front of him. The bus gradually slowed to an acceptable speed as he settled himself back down into the uncomfortable seat.

"Christ Sherlock, what is this?" He finally managed to get out. Sherlock didn't waste any time getting straight to the point after everyone's attention was focused on something different.

"We're heading to a castle. This bus is the only thing that will take us out far enough to get to the castle. The locals don't take very kindly to 'trespassers' such as ourselves and they like to alert the police. That's why I would have appreciated your cooperation at the bus stop." He sped through his explanation with his normal clipped tone and then snuck a glance at John to make sure he was following. "Does that answer all your questions?" He snapped when John didn't answer immediately.

"I guess…..but, I mean, why exactly are we going?" He gestured forward as if it solidified his question.

At this, his curly haired companion gave a smirk, "The unknown offers more of a thrill than a simple case Watson." was his only response.

John just rolled his eyes and looked out the window at the houses speeding past….


	2. Chapter 2

The ride to the castle was more of a blank memory to John than anything. He had dozed off a bit despite the humidity that the broken air conditioner filled the bus with and the sharp stops that snapped him awake when the metal pierced his back.

They were headed towards their final stop, a pale orange house with peeling paint, when John eventually woke up. As the small, frail woman made her escape off the death trap of a bus, John opened his groggy eyes and yawned. It took him a few minutes to completely awaken from his nap, but he eventually sat up in the uncomfortable chair and looked out the patched up window to his left.

They were at the very edge of an expanse of looming pine trees with the village bus stop settled right on the outskirts. After the woman got off, a couple of young men and a mother with her child steadily made their way out. The bus seemed eerily quiet with the loss of its inhabitants, though the eternal rumbling of the engine still reverberated throughout the empty space. It sounded as if it would die at a moments notice.

After everyone was off, Sherlock shot up out of his seat and walked swiftly towards the driver of the bus. John looked up at him in a state of shock before quickly noting that Sherlock probably knew him. That had to be the case since Sherlock was never this eager to speak to people.

"Mr. Lachlan, so nice to see you again." he smirked as he sat down on the front right seat. The man turned back to him and smiled as though he had just heard the most precious secret of his life. John felt uncomfortable in his presence.

"Ey jus call me Doddie...or Dod if yer more comferterble wit at." he grinned back at him. "Mus be nice ta be on ole' Veronica again ey Sherlock?" he said in an unmistakably deep Scottish accent.

Sherlock nodded quickly, "Yes. Nice as ever." he said dryly.

John frowned as the old man let out a chortle of laughter, "Oh boy I know she ain't like she used ter be, but she runs...she runs." he gave the steering wheel a pat that caused a puff of dust to fly into the air.

"Ahem. So...er, we're going to go soon. Correct?" John asked anxiously.

Dod glared at him through the cracked mirror above the dash and gave a snort, "What are ya bein impatient fer? Jus calm down." he shook his head as he pulled the bus out of park. Sherlock shot him a look of annoyance that he chose to ignore as he settled into the seat on the other side.

"Anyways, where ya goin this time?" Dod asked as he slammed on the gas and forced the bus to rocket through the the overgrown road. John was only semi-prepared for this as he barely stopped himself from headbutting the padded sheet of metal in front of him with both hands. While he tried to find a good hold on his seat, Sherlock answered Dod's question.

"The old castle? Lord forbid ya go in there! It's got-" he cut himself off and let the roar of the engine overtake his sigh.

"What is it Mr. Lachlan? Tell us what you know about the Mayfair castle." he tried to hide his excitement but it was more than apparent.

Dod shook his head exasperatedly, both at Sherlocks formality and the statement as a whole, and with a deep breath he began his story.

"Well, the castle's name is Farroway. They say it was..er...connected or some'in wit another castle in Germany, used ter be Prussia. I think they used ter call it Brenberg...Brennenburg or somern like at. Anyways, lots a bad things happened there. The Prussians used ter say it was haunted."

Sherlock snorted at this and crossed his arms, "Haunted. I highly doubt that." he mumbled.

"I dun believe a word a it myself either! Well, they said solders used ter become monsters. A man named Agrippa up in vanished too! Then there's tale of tha immortal baron who'd lived over three hundred years. Mind you this was tha eighteen hundreds. His family was veeeeery secret-like so no sort a birthday or death day was ever wrote down. They say he was a cultist, one a them dark voodoo type. Anyways, he had an orb wit 'im. Thas all it boils down to. Orbs. Ano'er man, I up n forgot his name now, had an orb put inter this castle way back en. Legend has it that he put tha orbs in various o'er castles too to try n connect em somehow. I unno bout all that but the women in town have gotta keep an eye on their kids. A lot of em have taken ter travellin out here an findin that orb. But even though all this happened hundreds a years ago ya both don't need ta be pickin at it ya hear me?" he finished his speech as they both stared at him through the mirror. John looked mildly unconvinced while Sherlock looked ecstatic.

"Now Sherlock." John started as he felt the other man's excitement begin to heighten, "I know how you felt during the Baskerville case. This is exactly like that. Only this time we're going to be miles from the nearest town and I-" Sherlock cut him off with a shush as he clasped his hands together.

"John. I know you may be a little hesitant about something like this. Especially with the Baskerville case. I know that. But there's something else…" he trailed off as the trees thinned out in front of them.

Dod let out a low whistle and sat back, "Boy wouldja look at that view." he sighed.

They both turned to look and saw a wide blue lake with flickers of the dying orange sun in its depths. They were turning right down a rough dirt road with the castle just a little farther on. The lake stretched out further on the right side as they drove along the side of the road. The sun was setting just behind the castle which made it seem to glow with an oddly inviting yet mysterious aura. Everyone was in awe at the sight. Then the wheels began to spin as the road turned to mud and grass.

"Shit!" Dod cursed as he smashed his foot on the gas pedal. The bus slowly moved forward through the mud until a sudden jerk and gurgle showed that it could go no further. Dod slammed the palms of his hands down on the steering wheel and let out a loud sigh as he jammed the bus into park.

"Well, guess this is as far as we get boys!" he laughed as he looked back at the two of them.

"Now I won't tell yer all how ta live, but if you were me I wouldn't go inter that place." He warned as they both moved to stand.

"Thank you Mr. Lachlan. I'm sure we'll be fine." He stood up and motioned for John to do the same.

Dod just shrugged and pulled a lever that opened the creaky side door, "Dun mention it. Now ya be careful and jus tell me if yer needin anythin else. That is if ye ain't dead yet!" He waved him off. John nodded his head as he followed Sherlock out the door.

"Thank you Mr. Lachlan...er..I mean Dod."

"Ey, yer welcome. Make sure he doesn't get inta any trouble wouldje?" he asked worriedly to which John let out a little laugh.

"I'll try my best." he nodded before leaving Veronica the Antichrist bus to be dealt with by her owner.

When he caught up to Sherlock they were just a few feet from the ominous, looming castle Farroway.

"So, we're really going through with this then?" John asked as they skirted a large puddle of mud.

"Of course. Why do you think we road that bus all the way out here?" Sherlock let out a snort.

He didn't reply and instead focused on keeping his hands from the freezing air around them. He stared up at the immense castle, wondering what on Earth Sherlock could have meant earlier. Something else? What the hell could that mean?...

As they approached the large wooden door a thought suddenly occurred to John. Well, one among countless others.

"So, how are we going to get inside?" he asked as he surveyed the bolted door. Sherlock stared at it for less than a second before turning his head to the side and looking around the edges of the windows.

"The door is a decoy. Only used when the owner needed it. He had a normal door but the chances of us finding it are slim and time consuming. We might as well get in through a window." and with that he threw off his scarf and began to carefully wrap his right hand with it.

John watched on, a small pit of worry forming in his stomach. He watched as Sherlock walked up to one of the tall windows on the very left, pushed the glass just a bit with his unwrapped hand, then lifted and slammed his other hand into the old glass.

It broke apart quite easily with shards flying into pieces which shattered in upon themselves into smaller bits. The window was tall and colorful so the pieces rained down in what seemed to be a rainbow. It was almost hypnotic.

Sherlock had, thankfully, jumped out of the way quick enough to avoid the glass and had begun to climb into the castle.

"Coming?" He asked as he daintily pushed himself over the window pane and into the castle.

"Oh, oh yeah." he replied as he shook the hypnotic feeling from his head. He made his way over, avoiding the glass as much as he was able to, and hopped over the windowsill. As they wandered into the dark and uninviting castle, the sound of a bus could be heard in the distance as it started up and reversed as quickly as it could.


End file.
